


Permission Slip

by incorrectbatfam



Series: Dick and Dami Week 2021 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Tumblr: Dick and Dami Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: Dick leaned against the table, fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge. “So…”“Damian picked you over me as a parent chaperone.”Dick blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Well, when you put it that way…”~Dick and Dami Week day 2: Dami’s first birthday with Dick | Comfort |“He’s my son!”
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Dick and Dami Week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197983
Comments: 7
Kudos: 300
Collections: DickAndDamiWeek2021





	Permission Slip

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bumper Stickers](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/772839) by FinalArc. 



Damian marched up to Dick and slapped a piece of pink paper on the desk. “I need this filled out by Friday morning.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“ _Tt_ , can't you read? It’s the chaperone sign-up form for the class trip to the zoo. School policy dictates that we cannot go if we lack parent volunteers, so you must come because I _refuse_ to miss the new elephant exhibit.”

“You had me at elephants.” He ruffled Damian’s hair, much to the latter’s disgruntlement. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll get it back to you by then.” He said over his shoulder, “Alfred, can you clear my schedule on Friday?”

From the other room, Alfred said, “Already done, Master Dick.”

“You the man!”

Dick pinned it dead center on the Batcave’s bulletin board. As soon as he typed up a quick mission report for Babs, signing the form was number one on his priorities. The lukewarm coffee inside the World’s Best Dad mug rippled each time his fingers struck the keyboard.

No sooner after he finished the report, however, Alfred called the family to dinner. Dick gave the form a pointed look, as though making sure it knows it’s going to be signed. 

Family dinners were one of the few times Dick could attempt a normal conversation without the risk of getting stabbed, shot, or having his Social Security sold on the dark web. He glanced from Damian carefully separating his food to Jason making his vegetables look like a crime scene to Tim mushing everything together in one greenish-brown lump. 

As Dick passed around the pepper grinder, he asked, “What’s everyone been up to lately?”

Jason said, “I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”

“That’s swell,” Dick said. “Timmy?”

“Infiltrating the Kahndaq military database to expose bribery and corruption among the senior officials,” said Tim.

(Why couldn’t Dick have a normal family?)

“What about you, Dami? I heard you got a field trip coming up.”

Damian scoffed. “Of course you did, I gave you the information.”

Bruce wiped the corner of his lip. “I didn’t know you were having a field trip.”

At last, a normal conversation! Dick praised the heavens above.

“My science class is going to the zoo as part of our ecology unit,” said Damian. “Granted, I could have gotten a master’s in zoology had my grandfather not killed my tutor, but I believe seeing the animals in-person will be an enriching experience.”

Bruce folded his hands. “Interesting, and when is this trip?”

“Friday,” Dick and Damian said in unison.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “And I’m finding out about this just now?”

Jason whistled. “I smell drama.”

“Ah, yes, the classic parent-child conflict trope that forces one or both parties to re-evaluate who they are and what role they play in their family dynamic—1.5k words _minimum_ for a one-shot labeled as angst with self-reflection cross-posted to Tumblr featuring background characters tagged only because they have speaking parts who otherwise exist solely as tools for facilitating plot progression and occasionally functioning as comic reliefs to lighten the atmosphere with blatant meta-humor,” Tim said.

“There’s no drama,” Bruce said. “And no… whatever he said.”

“Exactly! No drama whatsoever,” Dick said. “I just need to borrow a camera for pics. Do we have one of those old-fashioned Polaroids?”

“We have five. But what would _you_ need a camera for? It’s Damian’s trip.”

“Damian asked me to be the chaperone.”

Jason said to Tim, “This is the most interesting dinner since the time Ace ate an entire turkey.”

Bruce turned to Damian. “Is that true?”

“Yes, it is.” Damian sliced into his eggplant parmesan, seemingly unaware of the steep escalator that was the conversation. “The school asked us to provide parental supervision, and Grayson is obviously the most qualified candidate.”

“Oh, SNAP!” Jason exclaimed. Tim clutched his ribs, laughing.

Bruce glared at those two. “Would you please excuse us?”

Tim and Jason set their phones down, and Alfred escorted them out of the room.

“And take your voice memos with you!”

Once the room was free of nosy middle kids and audio recorders, Bruce asked Damian, “Why didn’t you come to me? You know I have Fridays free.”

Damian muttered, “This family is more incompetent than usual today,” before saying more loudly, “Grayson possesses the skills and guidance needed for a valuable experience.” He finished his last bite and picked up the plates. “I assume Todd and Drake are eavesdropping, so I will one-up them in being useful by helping Pennyworth with the dishes.”

Dick shifted uncomfortably. He _really_ didn’t like where this was going. “You know, I’m gonna head out too. Fun talk, but there’s plenty of Nightwing business waiting. I’m sure Babs will be—”

Bruce caught Dick’s arm, and it was in that moment something shifted.

“We need to talk.”

Footsteps echoed through the cave as Bruce paced back and forth, trying his best to ignore the pink slip waving like an undeserved victory flag. It took everything in him not to tear it off and chuck it away.

Dick leaned against the table, fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge. “So…” 

“Damian picked you over me as a parent chaperone.”

Dick blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Well, when you put it that way…” 

“There’s no other way to put it.” Bruce exhaled. “I’m sure it was an honest mistake. Maybe he misread the form.”

“B, it’s _Damian_. He doesn’t misread things.”

“I know, but…” Bruce rubbed his forehead. “I feel like he’s supposed to ask _me_.”

Dick crossed his arms. “What makes you say that?”

“I’m his father. He’s supposed to ask _his father_. I don’t understand.”

“You’re overreacting, B. The kid still respects you. You’re _Batman_.”

Bruce tried to swallow the desperation, but it stuck to his throat like a wet cotton ball. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“He patrols with you every night,” Dick said. “Seriously, I don’t see what’s the big deal.”

“Yet he asks _you_ to take him to the arcade. He tells _you_ about his day at school. _You’re_ the first one he greets in the morning and the last one he sees and night. I’ve been back for weeks, but _not once_ did he talk to me about what’s going on in his life.”

“If he doesn’t want to, that’s his choice.”

“ _He’s my son!_ ”

“You _left_.” Dick jabbed a finger in Bruce’s chest. “You left him all by himself and guess who had to pick up after your mess? If Damian picked me, it’s because you weren’t here as an option. Now you’re here whining like the entitled man-baby you are because you realized we can and _did_ move on without you.” Blue fire blazing in his eyes, he snatched the paper and scribbled his signature at the bottom. “I’m going on that field trip with him and we're gonna have the time of our lives whether or not you grow up and get your head out of your ass.”

Bruce pointed to the door. “Out.”

“Did you even listen—”

“ _Out._ ”

Dick scoffed. “Typical.”

As soon as he was alone, Bruce pulled out the biggest case file they had and plopped it on the desk so hard it shook the computer. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know you’re there, Tim.”

A voice from the rafters said, “No Tim here, just dust.”

A different voice said, “Dude, forget it, the good stuff’s over.”

Time lost all meaning as Bruce buried his head in mindless busywork. Not even the dog went near him. He broke at least five pencils and three pens pressing down so hard, and the wastebasket overflowed with crumpled yellow sticky notes. All he knew was the stone in his head got harder to hold up by the minute. 

It’s all Dick’s fault, walking around like he’s head of the house. He gave the other kids the wrong idea. _Bruce_ is the one in charge. This place is called _Wayne Manor_ , not _Grayson Manor_. Dick needs to quit pretending to be everyone’s dad because that’s not how things are supposed to work. Bruce is the dad and Dick is the big brother who should mess with the younger ones like eldest siblings do. 

Bruce gazed mournfully at the bottom of his empty mug. He’d refill it, but Alfred had moved the coffee machine on the other side of the cave to mitigate caffeine consumption. His eyelids were heavy, He slid the empty mug across the desk.

In doing so, it toppled over the edge. Bruce dove. It grazed his fingers before striking the floor, shattering into a million pieces. 

He grabbed the dustpan and began sweeping.

The brush pushed the two largest shards closer together. The fragments locked in place like polar sides of a magnet, spelling out, _“World’s Best Dad”_.

Who was he kidding? This was all him. He never made himself an option.

Bruce picked up the pieces, cleared his desk. He brought forth the magnifying glass attached to the moveable stand and inspected the unique bumps and ridges along each porcelain shard. He dug around the drawers for glue bottle, only to remember it was on his office desk.

Halfway down the carpeted hall, he heard a soothing voice, which he traced to Damian’s room.

The door was ajar. Damian was among the thick comforters on his enormous bed, nestled into Dick’s side as the latter read a Lemony Snicket novel. Jason laid on the rug, his shirt rode up and the cat resting on his bag, scrolling through his phone pretending not to listen. Tim sat at the foot of the bed, fully engrossed. 

As Dick flipped the page, Damian said, “I find you share some internal resemblances to Violet Baudelaire.”

Tim and Jason agreed.

“Huh, I never thought of it that way.,” said Dick.

He resumed his reading. Bruce grabbed what he needed from his room and slipped away with no one noticing.

Once he was back in the cave, he got to work.

Bruce dabbed beads of glue along the edge. He pressed the pieces together and thus began the wait.

There was no telling how long he sat there, waiting for the glue to dry to make sure it didn’t fall apart again. Nevertheless, he held it together. His fingers ached, but it was worth it. _They_ were worth it. And no matter the cost, he was going to stay.


End file.
